Mirror Image
by A.J. Kelly
Summary: In 1869, Draco Malfoy, the last of the great Malfoy family, vanished without a trace. In 1998, Harry Potter finds an heirloom mirror in the Black vault left to him by his godfather. But when Harry starts seeing the image of a beautiful man in the mirror, he learns that there is more to his mirror than he first thought. Slash. H/D. AU. OOC. Original HP plot... different Draco.
1. Prologue

_A/N: Hello everyone! This will be my first chapter-length Harry Potter story and it's one I've been working on for a while. This is just the prologue, but I'm putting it up to gage interest in the story._

_Summary:In 1869, Draco Malfoy, the last of the great Malfoy family, vanished without a trace. In 1998, Harry Potter finds an heirloom in the Black vault left to him by his godfather. Oddly taken with the mirror, he brings it back to his home, but soon after, Harry begins to see the image of a beautiful man in the mirror. Slash. H/D. EWE. AU. Possible Adult Content (not too explicit, though). _

_As a background for this story, think of every thing you know about the HP canon. Now remove Draco (And the Malfoys. The Blacks still exist up until Sirius.) and replace him with some other Slytherin of your choice. Anyone, really. There really isn't a place for them in this story as of right now. Voldemort has been killed and, in this story, Sirius is the last Black able to inherit and he leaves everything to Harry. So Harry now holds the Black and ancient Malfoy vaults. Draco will be a bit different attitude-wise, because he has now been raised in a different time with different customs and ideas. So, I imagine because Voldemort was non-existent in Draco's time, resentment towards Muggleborns was more of an elitist idea, rather than a political ideology. So Draco won't be cruel and scathing and hateful towards Muggleborns, but he will still be arrogant and self-important. At least he will if I write him correctly._

_This is un-betaed, so any and all errors are my own. Also, there is a disclaimer on my profile about my update times. I'm a PhD student and I'm trying to write my own novel, so I have very little time. I write fanfiction as a stress-relief. So there may be long times between updates. I'll try not to, but I've been pants about updating my other two 'In-Progress' stories, so no promises._

_So I hope you're intrigued by my new story and please let me know if you're interested in reading more! Enjoy! ~AJ Kelly_

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Disclaimer: _The Harry Potter Series_ and all recognisable characters belong to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, and all other associates. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. Only this rather lame plot is mine.

Prologue, 1869

With a heavy sigh, Draco Malfoy threw the roll of parchment on the desk and took a big gulp of his scotch. Sorting out the business' finances was never his favourite task, however it was a necessity that he was forced to do. Since his father's death five years earlier, Draco had become head of the Malfoy family and all that it entailed, and that included the finances. Draco had never wanted to become head of the family, rather it was a role forced upon him. As the only child, he had never been given much of a choice.

Draco closed his eyes tightly and pressed his fingertips into the corners of his eyes. He was beginning to see double and no amount of scotch, Firewhisky, or energy potions were helping. Giving up, Draco stood up and deliberately covered the finance sheet with a blank piece of parchment. Maybe if he couldn't see it, it would go away. Or calculate on its own, which would be even better.

He could have easily asked the family accountants to deal with the finances, but Lucius had engrained early on that only a Malfoy should be trusted to know the exact amount of the Malfoy assets. The accountants were for the odd project and legal disputes.

"Pippsy," Draco called out for his house elf. A second later there was a _pop_ announcing the elf's arrival.

"Yes, Master Malfoy? What cans Pippsy gets, sirs?"

"I'll be having a guest for dinner tonight. Set out a place for him and when he arrives send him to me."

"Yes, sirs, Master Malfoy." The house elf said, eyes wide in astonishment. She disappeared before Draco could retaliate. It wasn't for a house elf to hold an opinion on their master. Granted, Draco rarely had people over. Fine, he never had people over. But that didn't mean that when he actually did, the house elf had to express astonishment.

It wasn't like he wanted to have his guest over. It was purely for business and Draco wanted to get it over with so that he could return to the isolated comfort of the study. Or maybe he'd go to the library. The study was, after all, where the bloody finance report was. Yes, best to just avoid that wing for now.

He turned to leave when his reflection caught his attention. He studied his reflection in the ornate gold mirror that had been passed down for generations. His pale blond hair fell freely into his grey eyes, having been too lazy to brush it back earlier in the day. Draco had the Malfoy jaw line, but he had his mother's, Narcissa Malfoy née Black, small frame and cheekbones. His father had hated how fragile Draco had looked as a child, so Draco had quickly been trained to be a 'Good Malfoy,' who was the definition of strong, beautiful, and intelligent. Now that his father and mother were gone, Draco was struggling to find himself beneath all the training.

Draco felt his magic hum, alerting him to his guest's arrival. Sure enough, moments later the door opened and a tall, broad man swept into the room.

Draco narrowed his eyes instantly, "What are you doing here?"

"We have business to discuss, Malfoy, and I won't let you avoid me again."

"I'm not avoiding you, you imbecile. I've told you 'no' several times. There is nothing to discuss. Now I'll ask you to leave, as I have an appointment for dinner that should be arriving soon." Draco walked towards the door, trying to herd the man out of his house.

"He's not coming," the man said simply. He walked around Draco's desk and sat in the grand chair. To add further insult to injury, he placed his dirty boots on the desk. Draco scrunched his nose as he watched clumps of dirt fall on his papers.

"How do you know?" Draco asked.

"He had… a problem."

Draco's entire body tensed in warning. Draco knew this was a man not to be trifled with. He was cruel and powerful, and for some reason had singled out Draco for a business opportunity that was highly illegal and the profit wasn't worth the risks involved. But when Draco told him 'no' his face had twisted into a snarl and his hand had wrapped around Draco's throat, choking him until Draco had managed to hex him and quickly escape. After that, Draco had tried to avoid him as much as possible. His owls and multiple floo calls had all been ignored even though Draco knew it would only upset him further.

"What did you do?" Draco whispered into the sudden tense silence. He let his wand fall from his wrist harness and he caught it in his hand, making sure to keep it out of sight. The man watched him closely, twirling his wand between his fingers. Draco moved his fingers slowly, trying not to draw attention.

Just as his wand had slid into position, the man's eyes snapped to his hand. He saw Draco's pristine wand glimmer in the light of the fire. With a flick of his wand and a muttered _Expelliarmus_, Draco's wand went sailing into the air, dropping to the floor and rolling into a dark corner.

Draco tried not to panic, but he was now defenceless. The only thing he could do was run, but he knew the man would attack him before he could make it out the door. The man watched the terror flit across his face, a cruel smile twisting his mouth.

"Tsk, tsk. Nothing nearly as bad as I'm going to do to you, Malfoy," the man snarled, finally showing some emotion.

"Look, I haven't told any one what you're planning, I'll stay silent. I just don't want any part in it."

"That's not good enough. You're a Malfoy. You're a manipulative bastard who would tell me anything to save your own neck. I can't trust you, and you know too much."

"I'll make an Unbreakable Vow, I'll do whatever you want. I swear I won't tell anyone," Draco hated that he had to plead. It was beneath a Malfoy to beg for anything. But this was his life, and Draco didn't want to die.

The man launched to his feet, wand raised and aimed straight at Draco. "There's nothing you can say, Malfoy. It's too late. Let me say, I would have gladly considered you a business partner, but now I'm quite eager to kill you. I've waited for this moment for years."

"Please," Draco said weakly, "Please."

The man came forward until he stood in front of Draco. "No amount of begging will save you, Malfoy. You've dug your own grave, and now I'll make you lie in it."

"Please, I don't want to die."

"There are things worse than death, Malfoy," the man replied.

Draco shut his eyes and tried to calm his breathing, knowing that even in death a Malfoy had an image to maintain. The man raised his wand and muttered a curse that Draco couldn't hear. A blue flash of light illuminated the whole room and then Draco Malfoy, the last of the Malfoy line, was gone.

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_A/N: So this is the shortest chapter I'll put out, but it is just a prologue. Please let me know what you think and if you are interested in this story. Thank you for reading! ~AJ Kelly_


	2. Chapter One

_A/N: Hello again! Thank you all for the follows and reviews! Here is the next chapter. I'll warn you, this is the only pre-written chapter I have. I'm working on Chapter Two, but I don't know when my schedule will allow me to finish it, edit it, etc. But I wanted to put this up so you guys can get an idea of where this story is going. That way it's not just a 1,000 word prologue and nothing else. I don't have a beta, so all spelling and grammar errors are mine. Enjoy!_

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Disclaimer: _The Harry Potter Series_ and all recognisable characters belong to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, and all other associates. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. Only this rather lame plot is mine.

Chapter One

October 1998

Harry James Potter was lost in his vault. He had been wandering for what seemed like hours through the clutter-formed walkways that seemed to go on forever, and he was beginning to seriously doubt if he'd ever find his way back to the exit. Would the goblin come looking for him if he didn't return? Would people notice if he was lost? He hadn't been out in the Wizarding world as often since the defeat of Voldemort, but people still considered him a big deal and he was always in the Daily Prophet when someone managed to snap a photo of him.

After his defeat of Voldemort months earlier, he had tried to decide what he would do with his life. The obvious choice, of course, was to become an Auror. It was what was expected of him and a part of him still wanted to become one. A larger part, however, was tired of all the blood and fighting. He wanted to help people, but he also wanted time away so that he could recover.

He watched his friends recover from the battle quite well – or at least that was how it seemed. Ron and Hermione were finally together and everyone guessed that they would be moving in with each other soon. Hermione was going to school to be a lawyer and dreamed of someday being a barrister to petition for the rights of Magical Creatures. Ron had started Auror training in September – in the programme that Harry was also supposed to take.

But he couldn't go. On the first day of training, he had stood at the fireplace trying to convince himself to pick up the floo powder and head to the ministry; but whenever he tried to move his hand, something stopped him. Several hours later when Ron arrived shouting, swearing, and wondering where Harry had been, he didn't have a good excuse. Only that he wasn't ready.

So Harry withdrew from Auror training, though Shacklebolt did say that he could return in the next round if he wanted to. Harry was relieved to have that to fall back on.

In the meantime, Harry had taken to walking around London, simply enjoying the feeling of safety. He considered getting a house somewhere away from where people would recognise him, but in the end he decided that just because he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, that didn't make him a hermit.

So he started fixing up Grimmauld Place. Thanks to his money as a Potter and the rather impressive inheritance Sirius had left him, Harry had enough money to never work again if he wanted. His redecoration had been going well, but something seemed to be missing. The house had been rundown when he had first been to see it if fifth year, and it hadn't fared much better when it had been the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. But as Harry pulled away the old carpets and wallpaper, he found that the house was quite grand. Dark wooden floors and original moulding still remained, and while Harry had never been a history buff he found that he could occupy himself with hard labour and research on the historical features of the house.

The only problem was that it was difficult to find furnishings that would fit with the natural look of the house. Harry didn't want to live in a palace. Sure the Blacks were one of the richest Wizarding families and had homes throughout Great Britain, but Harry didn't want his home to look like Black Manor. He had been there once during the war, and all Harry could think about while he was there was that it was a sterile, unliveable, pretentious pile of shiny shit.

Harry wanted his home to have some modern comfort. His sofa was big and plush and everything he could ever want when he spent the entire day in front of the TV. His bed was boring but comfortable. In fact, it was only the original features that gave the house the 'antique' look. Several weeks after the renovations to the main floor were complete, Harry decided that something else was needed. Something that could tie the two looks together.

So that was what led Harry to Gringotts Wizarding Bank and to the Black vaults, looking for something that he could use for decoration. Harry had been there for half an hour slowly moving further and further into the vault, getting increasingly lost, and quickly becoming more annoyed and pissed off. He hadn't found anything useful, it was all the pretentious shiny shit that he had expected.

He finally reached the back of the vault and sighed in exasperation. There was nothing more and he hadn't found anything helpful. He didn't even want to think about how he had managed to find his way back there. He looked around once more and moved to head back when something caused him to stop and turn around. His attention was drawn to something propped up against the wall covered by a sheet. Harry's magic seemed to be pushing him towards the object and without questioning it Harry removed the sheet.

It was a mirror. The frame was golden with gilded ivy leaves around the corners. It looked old and in some places the gold had been worn down to black. It was ornate but the simple leaf pattern kept it natural and modern. Harry knew as soon as he laid eyes on it that it was perfect for his house. He picked it up and halted when his magic flared as soon as his fingers touched the frame.

"That's odd," Harry murmured. He put the frame down and cast a quick charm to make the mirror reveal any dangerous magic it might hold. After all, one could never be too safe with the possessions of old Wizarding families. But the charm revealed nothing. Harry tried several more, but there was nothing to show that there was something evil or dark in the mirror. It had magic in it, but what wizarding object didn't? Harry thought for a while but something told him that nothing in the mirror would hurt him. So he picked it back up and wasn't surprised when his magic flared again.

"I'll take this with me. Can you send it to Grimmauld Place for me?" Harry asked the goblin once he reached the entrance.

"Of course Mr. Potter. I'll send it immediately. It should be there when you arrive."

"Thank you."

After signing some documents stating that he had removed something from the vault, Harry flooed back to his home, eager to hang up the mirror – though not really understanding why he was so eager.

He found the perfect place in the hallway, right where the portrait of Walburga Black used to hang. It had taken Harry ages to figure out how to remove that portrait and it was only with a bit of quick thinking on Hermione's part that it even came off. Now there was just a large empty space on the wall, and Harry knew instantly that the mirror would go there.

He hung it and took a step back admiring the mirror against the soft grey paint. It was perfect. Not only did the mirror do the trick of merging the historic with the modern, but Harry could feel the magic of the mirror complimenting the magic of the house. It was almost as if the mirror _liked_ being in Grimmauld Place.

Harry couldn't remember hearing anything about magical objects having, well, chemistry, for lack of a better term, with other magical objects, but that didn't really mean anything. He made a mental note to ask Hermione about it later and went to get himself a cup of tea. Kreacher was upstairs shifting through the boxes of things in the loft that had been left there because the Order didn't have the opportunity or the resources to investigate them, so Harry was left on his own for lunch.

He sat at the kitchen table and stared out the kitchen window, the silence of the house echoing in his ears. It wasn't often that he was lonely, but every once in a while the emptiness of the house got to him and made him distinctly aware that his life appeared to be going nowhere whilst his friends were successful and respected members of society.

It wasn't that Harry cared what others thought of him; he had learned to ignore what others said when he was a child. But some days when he was alone and hadn't seen anyone in a while, he started thinking, and, as Ron would say, that was never a good thing. Because thinking led to bad thoughts about what the fuck he was doing and why he only felt comfortable fixing up an old house.

Harry sighed and pushed the thoughts away to be mulled over another time. What he really needed was to get out and visit with his friends. That would keep him set for several more days of solitude.

Ron and Hermione would still be at work, so Harry decided to floo Ginny, whose quidditch training schedule was always changing. She, out of everyone, was the most likely person to have the afternoon off. And Harry needed a good tall pint to milk for a few hours.

He took a pinch of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace and stuck his head into the green flames.

"Ginny? Ginny, you there?" He called, and then waited politely for her to notice that he was calling.

Three minutes later Ginny's freckled face appeared. "Harry, hi!"

"I was wondering if you have time to catch some lunch? I could really use a break from this house."

"Sure, do you want to meet at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Actually, I really don't want to deal with people today. Would you be alright with flooing here and then going to a pub?"

"That sounds great," Ginny exclaimed, "I've been wanting another one of those Hardbow drinks you got me last time."

"You mean Strongbow," Harry corrected.

"Yes, that."

"Sure, you can get one of those. There's a pub down the street that has great cottage pies."

"We're going there," Ginny insisted quickly. Harry was always surprised that she was able to stay as slim as she did considering Ginny had the same appetite as Ron. She was willing to eat anything at anytime, the worse for her the better. "I'll be through in a few minutes, I just have to change."

They said their goodbyes, and Ginny vanished from the flames. Harry opened the floo up so that she could come in and went to find his wallet among the clutter of his bedroom. As he passed the mirror he admired the pattern and realised just how much he actually like it. He never would have picked something like it out on his own, but it seemed to suit him.

Well, as much as a mirror could.

Harry turned to head up the stairs when something had him whirling around and staring at the mirror with wide eyes. Harry could have sworn he saw something in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. It looked like a flash of white had streaked across the reflective surface. Harry looked closer, but nothing was there. He blinked several times. Still nothing. Great, going crazy was the last thing Harry needed; he shook his head and went upstairs.

Had Harry turned around he would have seen a blond head of hair peak out from the corner of the mirror. Or he would have seen grey eyes watch as he walked up the stairs. But by the time Harry had found his wallet, changed his shirt, and come back downstairs, the figure in the mirror was gone.

xXx

"Really Harry, you need to get out more," Ginny placed a hand over Harry's and lightly squeezed. They had never gotten back together after the war, but those three weeks of dating had created a deep friendship.

"I get out when I want to, Gin. I'm just enjoying the silence. It's nice to have time to myself and not have people depending on me. I'm actually doing what I want to do."

"But Harry –"

"Look, Ginny I know that you're just trying to help me, but I really don't want to talk about this right now. I'm finally doing what I want to do, when I want to do it. No one's going to make me change."

"Fine," Ginny said with a frown. Then her face broke out into a smile and she leaned forward conspiratorially, "Guess who I went out with last night."

"Who's your newest victim?"

Ginny glared at him, but Harry just smiled innocently. "Arse," Ginny muttered, "I shouldn't even tell you after that."

"Aww, come on Gin, you know you still want to tell me," Harry teased. Ginny couldn't refuse having an audience to share her latest gossip. Even if it was about herself.

"You're right," She sighed, "so I'll be generous and tell you. Oliver Wood."

"Really, Wood?" Harry asked, astonished. He could have sworn Wood was gay. Though, for a gay man, Harry was horrible at identifying other's sexual preferences. After a few bad experiences of coming on to straight guys who just happened to dress well, Harry had practically given up on finding someone.

"Yes, and we're going out again on Friday. Isn't that great?" Ginny exclaimed.

Harry tired to keep the smile on his face, but it was difficult. It seemed like all his friends were pairing off. Ginny had been the last person to not be a 'couple' and it looked like that was about to end. Harry was again reminded that the rest of the Wizarding world was moving forward and leaving their hero Harry Potter in the dust.

"Yeah, Gin, that's wonderful."

"He's so handsome, and sweet. He took me out to this Italian restaurant where we had the best penne. I know it's only been one date, but I just know that he's the one."

"You said that about Josh last month," Harry pointed out.

"Josh was the one," Ginny defended, "until he wasn't. But Oliver, now he is the one."

"Well, good luck to him then," Harry muttered into his pint, wincing when Ginny punched him in the arm. "Fuck, that hurt."

"Then stop being a prat and I'll not hit you."

"Fine, sorry."

"You're forgive," Ginny said sweetly, though Harry knew there was venom beneath that sweetness. "And you Harry? What have you been up to?"

"The usual. Though today I went to the Black vaults and found a mirror for my house. You'll probably love it. It's gold."

"Real gold?"

Harry shrugged, "Knowing the Blacks, probably. It's very… glamorous. I guess."

"And you bought this?"

"No! No, I found it in the vaults. It…I don't know, it called to me."

"It called to you? Harry do you have any idea how… odd that sounds."

Harry just shrugged and muttered, "Well fine, I was drawn to it, I guess."

"You're becoming so stylish," Ginny teased. "Next thing you know, you'll be dressed in fine fabrics and wearing jewellery more expensive than my house."

"That will never happen," Harry insisted. "I can barely dress myself in matching colours each morning. I'll never wear expensive clothes."

"You should though. Harry, you'd look fantastic! I can just imagine you dressed in an emerald green silk…" Her eyes got a far off look that terrified Harry and he scrambled to wipe the look from her face.

"Stop that! Stop that right now. No imaginary shopping trips for you. I'm quite happy in my ugly clothes."

"But –"

"No."

Ginny pouted and sat back in her chair. "You are the worst gay man ever. You never want to shop with me, and what's the point of having a gay friend who won't shop?"

"I feel so loved," Harry said, wryly.

"You are. But you'd be loved more if you'd go shopping with me."

"It'll never happen."

Ginny sighed and downed the rest of her drink in one gulp, "Are you ready to go? Let's go back to your place and talk."

Harry looked at his half-full pint with longing, but he agreed and quickly tried to drink as much of it as he could before Ginny forcible dragged him from the pub. When they got back to his home, Harry took her jacket from her and went to hang it in the coat closet. When he got back, he found her in the hallway standing directly in front of the mirror.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

"It's gorgeous, Harry! I'm actually surprised that you like this, I'd never have picked you as a gold kind of man."

"Me neither," he admitted. "I'd never have picked it out from a store. But I told you, it called to me."

"That's still odd, Harry. Magical items that play on your magic are always things to avoid."

"Really Gin, it's not playing on my magic."

"You felt called to it, Harry," Ginny warned. "That's not normal."

"It's a mirror, Ginny. It's hardly life-threatening," Harry scoffed. "I think I'll be fine."

"Diaries seem harmless, too," Ginny shot back. Harry blushed and murmured a quick apology. He couldn't believe that he hadn't realised just what Ginny had been alluding to, but on the other hand, he couldn't imagine this mirror being dangerous. It held magic, certainly, but what magical item didn't? The magic felt perfectly benign, and Harry had a lot of experience in reading magic in items.

"I'll get Hermione to look at it; but really, Ginny, I think you're just making a big deal out of nothing."

"It's better to be safe than sorry," Ginny replied. "Promise that you'll have Hermione look at it?"

"I promise," Harry muttered.

Ginny nodded in approval at Harry's agreement, and turned her attention back to the mirror. "It is quite beautiful though. I'd have never looked at something like this for you, but it seems to fit here perfectly."

"That's what I thought. It seemed to just fit here, even though it matches nothing. And I already told you about its magic seeming to compliment the magic of the house. I don't know, it just seemed like it wanted to go with me."

Ginny reached out her hand to stroke the gold frame, but the second her fingers touched the frame, she screamed and snapped her hand back to cradle it to her chest.

"It shocked me!" She yelled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that as soon as I touched it, it shocked me. It felt like a stinging hex. Harry, this isn't normal." Ginny took a step back from the mirror, eager to put distance between them.

"Are you sure it wasn't just static electricity?" Harry reasoned.

Ginny furrowed her brow in confusion. "Is that a Muggle thing?"

"I'm just asking how you know that it shocked you, like it was intentional."

"It was magic, Harry, and it shocked me," Ginny insisted. "I'm going to floo Hermione right now. She needs to look at this before you keep it in your house."

"Ginny, that's not really necessary," Harry quickly said. He didn't want his home to become a parade of aurors and ministry personnel just because Ginny got shocked. "I know it's magic, but it's done nothing to me. There's nothing dark in it – I already checked before I took it out of the vault. I'll have Hermione look at it, because I know it will make you feel better, but I won't let you disturb her for something like this. I'll have her look at it on my own time, when I feel like it."

"Harry," Ginny protested, but Harry stopped her.

"Please Gin? I don't want people worrying about me over a mirror. What can it possibly do to me? Suck me in?"

"It might," she mumbled, but then she weakly smiled. "Fine, I guess I understand. But if anything happens with it, promise me you'll get it looked at."

"I promise."

"Well I guess that's all I can ask for," Ginny said hesitantly. Harry could tell that he hadn't fully convinced her, but Ginny was less mothering with him than Hermione was, and she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I need to go now. I have practice in one hour and I still need to get my things together."

"Have a good practice," Harry said.

"Oh, I will," Ginny said as she continued to chatter at Harry as he led her to the fireplace. "Our next game is against the Nice Nippies, the French team. Their keeper is really weak this year. The game will be a piece of cake."

They stopped in front of the fireplace and Ginny whirled around to give Harry a tight hug. Harry had to strain to hear her mutterings into his chest. "I've missed you. We all miss you. I know you need some time, and we're trying to give you that. But don't shut yourself away."

"I won't. I'm sorry I've been distant lately. I'm just working through some things."

"I know Harry, and that's the only thing that's kept everyone from breaking down your door and dragging you out of here."

"I appreciate that," Harry said, purposely inflicting some humour in his voice, because he knew Ginny would still worry about him.

"You should. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hold off Hermione and Mum when they feel you aren't taking care of yourself?"

"No, I don't, and I'd rather never know."

Ginny huffed and took a pinch of floo powder off the mantel. "Just come out every once in a while."

"I will."

"And floo if anything odd happens with that mirror."

"Ginny," Harry groaned. She held up her hands to show that she was dropping the subject and threw the floo powder into the fire.

"Goodbye Harry," She called as she stepped into the fire. Then with a final cry of 'The Hovel', Harry was once again left alone.

Harry stared at the fire for several minutes thinking about what Ginny had said. He appreciated that there was at least on person who really understood why he needed time alone. Ron and Hermione understood that he needed time, but they didn't understand that this included time from them as well. After years of telling them every detail of his life for them to then pick apart and find a way to help him, Harry just wanted something for himself. Ginny understood that – which was part of the reason he called her up more than he called Ron and Hermione – but she could only hold them off for so long. Harry wished he could explain it to them, but there didn't seem to be words to tell them that this was one time they couldn't help him and he didn't want them to try.

Harry shook himself out of his daze and left the parlour, making sure he locked the door to prevent any unwanted visitors. He started to walk towards the kitchen, but as soon as he reached the mirror, he stopped. Harry tentatively reached a hand up, and let his fingers lightly brush the edge of the frame. The moment the pad of his finger touched the cool, gold frame, his magic buzzed around him, filling him with warmth. There was no hostile shock or bad magic coming from it. Harry just felt incredibly warm and at home.

"Why did you shock Ginny but not me?" Harry whispered. "Did you know that she doesn't like you and thinks you're dangerous?"

Harry paused, as if waiting for a reply, before he laughed at himself and dropped his hand to his side. "Maybe I am spending too much time alone. Now I'm talking to mirrors."

Harry shook his head and passed the mirror into the kitchen. It was stupid to worry about the mirror; he was absolutely confidant that there was nothing wrong with it. Harry brushed the thought to the side and didn't worry about it for the rest of the day.

xXx

Around two o'clock in the morning, a flash of silver shot across the mirror and then, quite unexpectedly, a figure appeared in the glass. All the portraits in the hall watched as the figure cleared and turned into a blond-haired young man. He was quite handsome, and at the first sight of him the girls in a beach portrait down the hall began giggling loudly.

The young man looked around and sneered at his surroundings. "Where the bloody hell am I?"

"You're at Grimmauld Place – Harry Potter's house," One of the portraits informed him.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter, the owner. And my godson," the portrait answered back.

"And you are?"

"Sirius Black," Sirius answered.

"Black? Of the Wiltshire Blacks?"

"That's the one!"

"My mother was a Black," the man mused. "Narcissa Malfoy, née Black."

"Narcissa Malfoy?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow. "And that you make you…"

"Draco Malfoy," he said with a proud air. Sirius visibly tensed, and then looked the blond boy up and down.

"Draco Malfoy's dead. Well, disappeared anyway. You vanished and all of your assets went to the Black family."

"I never vanished!" Draco spat. "I was murdered. I never left anyone."

"Then why are you in a mirror?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know. I remember a flash of light, and then I was here," Draco said softly. "They moved me into the vaults and I stayed there for years until today. I felt someone walk in, and their magic said I could trust them. So I used my magic and the magic of the mirror to get their attention, and now I'm here."

"That was Harry. He said that his magic called to him, so I guess you did something right."

"And you," Draco asked. "You said you're his godfather? But you're obviously dead. So is that how he gained access to the vaults? Because I had to fight with the mirror's magic to get his attention. The mirror didn't want to help because it could tell that he wasn't a true Malfoy. Or Black, as the case may be."

"Yep, I left all my assets to Harry. That's how he was able to get in. But why would you want to go with him anyway?"

Draco was quiet for several minutes before he softly replied. "I'm tired of being stuck here. I know I'm dead, but I'm stuck in a mirror. I realised long ago that I'm not a portrait like you. My consciousness hasn't been formed by magic. My soul is just trapped here. I just want to be free from here so I can go away. I'm tired of waiting. I just want to be done and dead."

"Well my Harry's the one to do that. He's a regular hero, that one."

Draco sneered and his face scrunched up in an unattractive frown. "I'm not looking for a hero. Just someone to free me from this damned mirror."

"Well, I said Harry'd be your man. Though to do this, you'll have to make him aware of your being here."

"I know that!" Draco spat, but then he frowned and fiddled in place in such a way that it looked like he was shuffling his feet. "But I don't want to reveal myself and have him throw a fit and lock me back in the vault. That's why I shocked that girl. She wanted to send me back and I'm not going to let her," Draco said fiercely. "Well, that and her awful hair. It shouldn't be allowed to have hair that orange."

Sirius snorted at Draco's snobby tone. "Yeah, well, all the Weasely's have that hair colour."

"Dear Merlin, the Weasley's survived? Do they still reproduce like rabbits? Have they continued to infect the world with orange hair?"

"You know they're your ancestors? A few generations back a Prewett married a Weasely," Sirius smirked at Draco's disgusted shutter. "The Black's and Weasley's were distantly related, but it's there."

"Yes, well, not for me, thankfully. My blood is clear from any orange-haired contamination."

"Well you definitely sound like a Black," Sirius muttered, earning himself a glare from the blond boy.

"I need to go to bed," Draco said, abruptly changing the subject.

"You sleep?" Sirius asked in shock.

"Yes, of course I sleep," Draco snapped.

"But you're dead."

"Well, yes, but I've figured out that it is a part of my curse. Because I'm a soul trapped, I need to sleep."

Sirius looked unconvinced, but Draco wasn't willing to fight with him over it. With a nod he said goodnight to Sirius, ignoring the girls who had done nothing but giggle and try to flirt with him the entire time. Just as he was preparing to disappear, Sirius' voice stopped him.

"I'll introduce you to Harry tomorrow. Let's get the ball rolling!"

Draco didn't understand the expression, but he could gather what he meant. Draco was nervous about meeting the man who now held his existence in his hands. He could only hope that Harry would let him explain before he threw him out.

xXx

Harry woke early the next morning, tried, but ready to get some more work done on the house. Finding the mirror had made him more excited to start work on the rest of the house.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and winked at the girl painting he hadn't bothered to remove after moving in, then stopped in front of the largest painting in the hall.

"Morning, Sirius."

"Morning, Harry. Sleep well?"

"I did. And now I'm ready for more work. Wanna help?"

"If, by help, you mean do I want you to carry me from room to room so I can talk with you and annoy the hell out of you, than yes, I'd love to help."

"Brilliant, than," Harry said as he rolled his eyes. He went to lift Sirius' frame from the wall when a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked at Sirius, but Sirius was grinning at someone over his shoulder.

Harry whirled around and stifled a scream when he was confronted with the image of a very pale, though very handsome man inside his mirror.

The man smirked at him and said, "Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy, and I'm your mirror ghost."

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_A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and let me know what you think. ~AJ Kelly_


	3. Chapter Two

_A/N: Hello again! I was at The Elephant House in Edinburgh yesterday and was bit by the Harry-Potter-Inspiration-bug, so I finished another chapter! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, added this to your favourites, and followed this story. I appreciate it. Enjoy!_

* * *

Disclaimer: _The Harry Potter Series_ and all recognisable characters belong to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, and all other associates. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. Only this rather lame plot is mine.

Chapter Two

"What the bloody hell is a 'mirror ghost'?"

"Well, me, clearly," Draco drawled as he examined his nails.

"Mirror ghost?" Harry repeated.

"What part of this is your imbecilic mind not understanding?" Draco asked. "I'm a ghost. I'm in a mirror. It's simple enough that even your obtuse mind should be able to follow. Surely you've seen ghosts before?"

Harry nodded, still not able to tear his eyes away from the image in the mirror.

"Well, there you are. I'm simply trapped in this mirror."

Harry looked behind him at Sirius and then back to the strange ghost. "Why are you trapped?"

"Obviously I don't know that, otherwise I would no longer be in this condition. This is, in fact, why I have revealed myself. Sirius has convinced me that you like helping people." Sirius earned a withering glare from Harry for that comment. Harry had thought that his lack of Auror training proved that he actually didn't have a 'saving-people-thing' as his friends so liked to call it. There was nothing more un-heroic and un-valiant than refusing to spend your life devoted to rescuing people. Right?

"Sirius is an arse who doesn't know what he's talking about," Harry muttered.

"So I would like your help. I would like you to find a way to retrieve me from this mirror," Draco finished.

"And just how am I meant to do that?"

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow and surveyed Harry. "I would imagine you'd treat it as research. Why not try reading?"

"Well I know that," Harry growled.

"Well then why are you acting the fool and asking asinine questions?"

"If you want my help you really aren't helping you case by acting like an arse," Harry pointed out. He felt a bit smug when the man in the mirror froze and seemed to consider his words.

"Very well, I concede your point" he said in the arrogant tone that was beginning to drive Harry crazy. "But my request stands. I no longer want to be trapped in this mirror and I ask that you find a way to release me."

"By 'release', are you asking me to kill you?" Harry asked. He was a bit wary of whatever would be needed to release a ghost. While this man was technically dead, he didn't know if releasing the soul would actually be what 'killed' him.

"Dear Merlin, what have I got myself into?" Draco muttered. He sighed and fixed Harry with a withering look that told Harry just how stupid this man thought he was. "I'm already dead. I hardly think that you can kill the already dead."

"I just thought – "

"Clearly thinking is not one of your strong suits."

"Remember what I said about being nice?" Harry asked with furrowed eyebrows. He pointed his finger at the man and, just to emphasis his point, poked the mirror near where Draco's chest should have been. "I'm not going to help you if you're rude."

"But then I'll never leave. And I'll drive you mad."

"Then I'll remove you from my home," Harry snapped back. Draco disapproving pressed his lips together in a thin line. "What's your answer to that, you prat?"

"Very well. I apologise for my behaviour, though I'm sure you appreciate the importance of my request?"

"Well I'm sure you understand that I won't let you treat me like I'm stupid, yeah?"

"So will you help me?"

Harry knew he should say no. There was no reason for him to help the annoying ghost that was trapped in his mirror. He was about to say no and quickly send the mirror – ghost and all – back to the Black vault where it would stay until Harry forgot about it.

But then he really looked at the ghost for the first time. The man was beautiful – if any man could be called beautiful. His fair hair easily blended into the reflection of the mirror and his pale skin appeared to shine. He seemed almost made to be trapped inside an elegant mirror.

It was a fate that no one deserved – even the dead. At least with portraits of the dead it was merely magic keeping their personalities alive. Their souls were free. Draco's – for some reason – was not.

And, fucking hell, that made Harry want to help.

xXx

Harry dragged the mirror into the living room and propped it up against one of the large recliner chairs before he did the same with Sirius' portrait. Then he took his seat on the couch across from them.

"So, tell me about yourself."

"It was an old business colleague of my father's," Draco said. "After my father died, I took over the family accounts and business. This man wanted me to invest in a doomed and highly illegal opportunity, which I refused. Apparently he didn't appreciate that very much. He came into my home one day, we fought and he… did some spell. The next thing I knew I was in here."

"Damn," Sirius said. "That must have been pretty shitty."

"You're telling me," Harry muttered.

"Yes. Then I watched my distant relatives pillage my father's home, joyfully examining his things to sell, keeping items well beyond their means. The bastards," Draco spat. "But I wouldn't let them take me. I hurt whoever touched me, so they thought the mirror was cursed. I was locked up in a vault for years. I don't even know how long I was down there. What is the year?"

"It's 1998."

"Over a hundred years," Draco whispered. "How was I down there that long?"

"Didn't you try to get anyone else to help you?" Harry asked.

"Why would I want to seek help from the people that stole my father's things? Every distant relative that could claim a drop of blood carted something away; my father's prized possessions became trophies. All that was left was the money and furniture deemed appropriate by the new heirs of the Manor."

"But then why me?" Harry asked. "Why did you compel me to take you out of there?"

"Did you feel compelled?" Draco wondered. "I wasn't trying to compel you. But your magic was different than the others – I do not know why. So I merely made you notice me. And, perhaps, I was strong in my use of _Animadvertere_, but I had to make sure you paid attention."

"Yes, well, I certainly did. And now you're here. Do you know anything about the spell that killed you?"

"No. There was a blue light and that is all I know."

"Blue?" Sirius asked, finally speaking up after staying quiet for what was a very long time for him. "Not _Avada Kedavra_ then?"

"No, I had never heard it before. The man was skilled in spell development; it may have been one of his own."

"It would probably be helpful if you could remember the man's name. Maybe it's a spell we know now," Harry suggested. "Or maybe we can track down his family or something and they could help."

"I never knew his given name."

"How could you not know his real name?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"He was a criminal businessman. Do you honestly believe he ever worked with real names, Christian or surname? He may have been a colleague of my father's, but my father didn't always have to most legal of ventures. It was something I was attempting to remedy."

"Well, that's a dead end… for now at least."

"Maybe we know a special little know-it-all who could be a big help with this," Sirius suggested. "It'd sure take the problem off our hands," he muttered.

Harry had already been thinking of asking for Hermione's help, but unlike Sirius he wasn't going to be suggesting it. Hermione was usually the best person to go to for anything related to research, and a part of Harry knew that he would probably end up asking for her help. But for the moment, Harry just wanted this one thing for himself. It was like the remodelling of the house and refusing to enter into a Ministry job. Harry wanted to do something on his own – to prove that he could accomplish something without the help of his friends or the Order or anyone else who thought they had a say in the way he ran his life.

"No, maybe later, but not yet," he said firmly.

"But Harry –" Sirius started.

"No Sirius, I want to try myself." Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, but Harry wouldn't budge.

Draco looked back and forth between Harry and his godfather's portrait. "I realise I have no idea what you both are talking about, but I am confused about whether you are agreeing to help me."

"Yes, I'll help you," Harry said, pointedly ignoring the topic of Hermione and Harry possibly needing any help at all. "But, I really don't have anything here…"

"Harry, I know you weren't the most academic person, but you must remember that giant room upstairs filled with these interesting things lining the walls. They have covers and pages inside them. And on the pages are words!" Sirius exclaimed, getting more and more excited as his mocking went on. "Now these words _teach_ you things._ Important_ things. Or so I'm told, at least. Can't say I've ever cracked one open, myself. But I'm one up on you, I at least know they exist."

"Ha, Ha, Sirius. Yes, fine, I'd forgotten about the library," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, 'Library'! That is the name of the mysterious room."

"Are you two always like this?" Draco asked. "Because if so, I'll ask that I spend as little amount of time around you as possible."

"Oh you don't mean that, Mr. Spook," Sirius said with a flourish of his hand.

Draco's mouth again pressed into a thin line when he heard Sirius' nickname and for the first time that day, he directly addressed the portrait. "What was that you called me?"

"Mr. Spook?" Sirius repeated with an innocent smile. "Well it's because you're so fancy and formal, and you're, well, dead. A spook."

"If you ever call me that again I will find a way to get into your picture frame and strangle the magic from you," Draco growled.

"Harry'd never let you," Sirius shot back.

"He can't be around you continuously."

"Are you two done? Or can I leave for this?" Harry asked.

"Harry, tell him you'll defend me!"

"I'm leaving now," Harry said.

"Wait," Draco snapped, forcing Harry's attention back on him. "Shouldn't you take me with you? I may be helpful, after all."

"I'm going to eat breakfast first and I think I'd prefer to do that in peace, thank you very much. Besides, what makes you think you'll be helpful?"

"I received O's in all 13 N.E.W.T.s I took when leaving Hogwarts," Draco said, barely managing to contain his smugness. "Highest in Hogwarts history and unlikely to be broken considering most students take less classes their Seventh Year. I could have taken more but I wanted some free time."

"Why the bloody hell would you take so many?" Sirius queried in horror.

"Because I'm brilliant," Draco said, simply. "And as a Malfoy, I have to be the best and learn everything I possibly could. I learned everything offered."

"Even Muggle Studies," Harry asked. He seriously doubted that someone as arrogant and elitist as this man had taken Muggle Studies.

His suspicions were confirmed when Draco's face contorted in horror. "Is that a class now? How barbaric. I assume, then, that there is also a class teaching Muggleborns the ways and history of purebloods, correct?"

"No, why would there be?"

"You see nothing wrong with there being a classes to lecture one group on the virtues of Muggles, whilst Muggles in turn learn nothing of the society they have entered? A society existing long before theirs and that will continue long after? How will co-habitation be possible when one group is forced to accept another's when they receive none of the same respect in return?"

"I –" Harry started, but he promptly shut his mouth when Draco waved him off.

"Obviously I don't expect you to have an answer. My thoughts are above yours. I was merely demonstrating that I would see and understand things you cannot. And so you shall need my help."

"Fine," Harry relented. "But no being annoying! Don't talk to me unless I ask you a question."

"I refuse to abide by those terms. I will not be forced to remain silent until your imbecilic brain realises far too late that you need advise. I will speak up when I wish and you will listen."

Harry ground his teeth together and walked right past Draco's mirror, picked up Sirius' frame, and swiftly left the room, ignoring Draco's demands to be taken with him. Harry walked into the kitchen and propped Sirius up on a kitchen chair and then he opened up the refrigerator. After his gruelling morning he was in the mood to gorge himself on a full English, so he took out all his ingredients and began cooking.

"Well he's an interesting little poof, isn't he," Sirius said, breaking the silence.

Harry stiffened for a moment, before he forced himself to relax. "You don't know that he's gay, Sirius."

"Please, he's the most camp thing in this house, including that _Wicked Wizards_ magazine I know you've got hidden away in your room."

Harry sputtered and almost dropped his fork into the sizzling pan of bacon. "I don't – I mean, I…"

"You're eighteen, famous, and a self-forced outcast, you have to get your jollies from somewhere, Harry. Plus I saw the post-owl deliver it last week."

"You need to mind your own business," Harry muttered.

"You know, a lonely old portrait wouldn't mind a bit of a peek, as well."

"Sirius!" Harry shrieked in horror.

"Not from you!" Sirius defended. "I just meant it wouldn't hurt if you'd leave the centrefold on the floor one night before you go to bed. Draco and I'd appreciate the thought."

"Again, you don't know that Draco is gay, and… just… no," Harry said.

"Trust me Harry, the boy was checking out your arse as you walked away. He's all gay. So if you know what's good for you, you'd flirt a bit."

"I'm not going to flirt with the dead guy trapped in my mirror. No matter how good-looking he is," Harry finished with a mutter. He plated his breakfast and sat down at the kitchen table. "Besides, I'm sure we'll find something soon, so he'll be gone in a week at the most. I'm not stupid enough to get attached to someone who'll be gone in a week."

"But, Harry – "

"No, Sirius, I mean it. We'll help him, but that's all. Besides, he's a fucking twat, I'll be glad to be rid of him. I think I can still hear him demanding that I not disrespect him."

Harry and Sirius both went quiet and, sure enough, Draco's faint voice could be heard complaining about his treatment and calling for Harry to come get him.

"Charming," Sirius teased. "He wants your attention. So sweet."

Harry groaned and tried to ignore Sirius for the rest of his meal. He had been doing a very good job of it, but then Sirius said something that forced Harry to pause mid-chew and stare at Sirius in shock.

"What did you say?"

"I said that if you won't make a move then I will. We are only right across the hallway. I bet the boy'd enjoy a bit of a flirt before he vanishes from existence. He is very, very good-looking. It'd be a shame to waste it."

Harry couldn't respond to Sirius' taunts, and Sirius knew it. But Harry couldn't explain the odd feeling he got in his stomach at the idea of Draco and Sirius together in anyway. Draco was a difficult prat and Harry could barely stand him, so there was no reason for him to feel anything towards Draco except relief for when he was finally gone. Harry convinced himself that it was only because of Draco's looks that he felt a bit jealous. Draco was the most handsome man Harry had ever seen and he just so happened to have his full attention placed on Harry. It was natural to feel attraction, especially when the hormones of a young man were taken into account. Harry knew it was nothing, and, thankfully he was very hard-headed and nothing would change his mind unless he wanted it to. He knew he was safe from Draco Malfoy.

"Well have fun then," Harry said, dismissively.

Sirius frowned and Harry had to hold back his self-congratulations at obviously not responding to Sirius' tricks as he expected. Before Sirius could say anything else, Harry finished his breakfast and dumped the dishes in the sink.

"Ready to go to the library?"

"No," Sirius pouted. "I don't want to spend my day trapped in a dark, dusty place."

"Well it's either the library or hanging in the hall."

"Fine, I guess I go to the library."

"Well then, I'll take you there before I get Draco."

"Mr. Spook," Sirius corrected. "You should call him by his nickname. Then he'll never want to flirt with you."

"Sirius," Harry warned.

Sirius raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, don't listen. It's not like I'm older and wiser than you."

"You're definitely older," Harry muttered as he unceremoniously dropped Sirius onto the library table and turned to go back downstairs. The moment he was through the living room door and pair of furious grey eyes shot to his.

"You left me," Draco accused.

"You were being a prat," Harry said. "And it was time for my breakfast. I'm done now and I'm going to go to the library. Do you want to come?"

Draco crossed his arms and breathed in and out so fiercely his nostrils flared. "Of course I would like to go with you. I said so, did I not? Are you so thick you cannot remember conversations made only moments ago?"

"All right, we're going to get one thing straight." Harry crouched down so he was eye-level with Draco and fixed him with a stern, no-nonsense look. "I'm helping you, not the other way around. So I expect to be treated with some respect. If you insult me, call me stupid, or anything else, then I'll stop working. It's not my problem if you stay like this. I don't have to put up with you either way. So be nice, or you're fucking yourself over. Yeah?"

Draco breathed in another violent breath, which made Harry wonder if it was some weird relaxation technique the blond had picked up in life. It didn't appear to be working as Draco's eyes started to crinkle in the corners and his nose flared with every angry breath taken. Finally Draco made an odd strangled sound in his throat and sharply nodded his head.

"Was that a yes?" Harry clarified.

"I already gave my answer and I will not repeat it," Draco snapped. "Now kindly take me to the library." Then, almost like an after thought, Draco managed to spit out, "Please."

"See, was that so hard? Now let's go. I can't spend all day in the library, sorry. So we'll have to get as far as we can before I get bored. After a bit of work I'll probably have my focus back and we can try again, but who knows when that will be."

"And what work do you do?" Draco asked with a forced politeness.

"I'm renovating the place. It was a dump when I got it, so it needs work top to bottom. I'm actually enjoying it. That's why I went into the vault yesterday, actually. I was looking for a Black antique that wouldn't look hideous in my place."

"Well it's a good thing you found me then. Everything else in the vault would look ghastly here."

Harry snorted and couldn't help but agree. "For all I know you look ghastly here and it is only the spell you used that has tricked me into thinking you fit."

"I look perfect. You just don't realise what high quality I am."

"Yeah, yeah. Well the girls in the beach picture sure do appreciate you being there."

"Daft women," Draco muttered. "Running around trying to show off. One of them even tried to show me her breasts! As if I'd want to see those."

"Do you have any idea where to start?" Harry asked, ignoring Draco's comment and the funny tingling in his stomach.

"Start with what? The woman's breasts? I, well, you see…" Draco blushed and Harry had to force back a laugh at the sight.

"No, I meant with looking for the spell that killed you."

"Oh! Well, yes – I mean, no not specifically. But I would assume we should look for books on spells that kill. Dark Arts, presumably, considering the man."

"Hmm, well between the library here and the one at Black Manor I'm sure we can find something."

"Black Manor? The Black's don't have a manor."

"Well they do now," Harry said. "It's in Wiltshire. A bloody castle, the thing is. All stone and cold." Harry glanced down and Draco's fallen face instantly made him bite back whatever else he was going to say.

"They call it Black Manor now? They changed my father's home to Black Manor? Oh, how I hate those people."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Harry apologised.

"Of course you didn't," Draco said in a strangled tone. He didn't say anything further and the rest of the walk to the library was spent in an uncomfortable silence.

"Took you both long enough," Sirius said when they arrived.

"You were fine," Harry said, dismissively. He set Draco down in a chair next to where he planned to sit. "Sirius, you know the library better than I do; come help me find some books." He picked Sirius up and cast a worried look at Draco before walking to the back of the library.

"What's up with blondie?"

"I didn't really realise that Black Manor used to be his, and I started talking about it. It made him a bit upset."

"Yes, that was quite a moment in the Black family history. The Blacks and Malfoys were always in competition with each other. Closely related, ancient, and heirs to each other's lines. But the Malfoys were always more powerful, richer, and they had Malfoy Manor. Damned jealous my ancestors were. So changing the name was like the crowning glory, not that they really did anything to deserve it, mind."

Harry barely listened to Sirius speak, but something he said caught Harry's attention. Harry watched crime shows; was obsessed with them, in fact. So he knew the best thing to do was to start close to home. As Draco was the last of his line, there were only a few people who would stand to gain from his death. People who were bitterly jealous and willing to do anything.

"Sirius, do you think it's possible a Black killed him? I mean if they got rid of Draco then their family would inherit everything."

Sirius frowned. "It's possible, I suppose. It's also highly likely that no matter how strained relations were, Draco's father would have had business dealings with the Blacks. As much as they hated each other, they hated the idea that someone else would become more powerful than them a lot more. The Blacks were jealous, but they gained when the Malfoys did."

"So if Draco was trying to pull away from that…" Harry let the thought hang because he really didn't have anything else beyond that. "Ron once said something about old families having a Book of Spells. Did the Blacks have one?"

"Of course they did, it's a pureblood tradition. They're spells created by and for the family. No one else knows them."

"Where is it then?" Harry asked.

"Really, you think I know where some paranoid pureblood hid their books?" Sirius said with a snort. You'll have to look, Harry. Best guess? Somewhere in a dark corner towards the top several layers deep. You may have to _Accio_ it. It may even be disguised."

Harry sighed and looked around. The library was huge. Each bookshelf was several layers deep and several stories tall, all charmed to fit inside the room. There was only one solution Harry could think of. He put Sirius down and went back to the front of the library. Draco was busy staring into the fire Kreatcher had built and didn't seem to notice Harry's return.

"Draco?" Harry called quietly, hoping to prod the man from his musings. Draco slightly inclined his head and Harry took that to mean he was listening. "Sirius and I think that maybe, with the history between your family and the Blacks, it's possible one of them killed you. So we're looking for the _Black Family Book of Spells_, but Sirius has no idea where it would be and I don't even know what one looks like or how to go about finding it. I could really use your help."

Draco was quiet for a moment and when he turned back to Harry his mood seemed to have vanished and he was back to his old self. "Of course you do. Take me there."

Harry smiled and picked Draco up. He wasn't fooled by Draco's act. Harry more than anyone understood how to hide your real feelings behind the mask of what everyone else wanted to see. He was beginning to understand that Draco could play the part just as well. It was something they had in common.

He set Draco on the floor next to Sirius and sat down in front of them. Almost immediately Draco began making suggestions on how to locate the missing book. Harry followed all of them, but several hours later they still had nothing. In frustration, Harry gathered some of the oldest manuscripts on Dark Arts he could find and spent the rest of the day with his head in a book. It wasn't until dinnertime that he realised he hadn't gotten bored once.

* * *

_A/N: Well? What do you think? Now I'm not a Latin scholar and I only have a limited grasp of the language as I'm slowly but surely teaching it to myself, but according to my Collins Latin Dictionary the spell Draco used to get Harry's attention translates literally as "take notice of"._

_Please review and let me know your thoughts! Cheers, AJ Kelly_


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